


Hiss

by eloquated



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Possessive Crowley, Snakes, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 21:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquated/pseuds/eloquated
Summary: Crowley was having a perfectly fine day until The Other Snake arrived.Clearly, the slithering interloper needed to be put in his place.





	Hiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sort of thing that rattles through my brain when it's quiet at work! 
> 
> And then stays there until I write it!
> 
> If you want to know what William looks like, you can click [here](https://tinyurl.com/y2jdglgz), or google search 'albino ball python'. But fair and obvious warnings apply-- don't click if you don't like snakes!

It all started with a snake.

No, not that snake!  And not that story. That tale had been told for centuries, and translated into dozens of languages.  It had, in fact, been mangled so thoroughly, and so many times that the actual events had been all but lost.

Crowley didn’t mind.  Even if the current incarnation was more than a little unflattering.  He could thank old King James for that bit of character assassination.

This story, however, was much more modern.  And the snake in question was a very different species of interloper.

He was long and sinuous, as a proper snake aught to be.  But instead of a respectably sleek black, he was covered in smooth scales the colour of milk and patterned with delicate, honey gold diamonds.  He would, even Crowley had to admit, be quite a lovely snake.

And he would know, he had first hand experience in judging serpentine loveliness.

However, on this particular day, the interloper was also coiled loosely around the shoulders of Crowley’s own  _ personal _ angel.  

Crowley stopped short in the door to the back room of the bookshop, and resisted the urge to flick his tongue out in agitation.  Instead, he fixed the snake with a particularly pointed glare over the top of his sunglasses, and hoped the slithering menace had the good sense to find a new place to drape.

There wasn’t room for two snakes in this shop, and Crowley had in on good authority that he’d laid his claim first.

Eons first, in fact.

Unfortunately, the snake simply lifted his head for a moment, nonplussed by the simmering demon-- and, adding insult to injury, proceeded to bump Aziraphale affectionately under the chin.

Clearly, he had to go.

“What is  _ that _ ?”  Crowley sniped, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that emphasized the long, serpentine lines of his body.  In proper black, of course!  Unlike  _some_ , he had standards.

From the worn brocaded couch, so old that the pattern on the fabric had almost faded entirely (which was a blessing, in Crowley's opinion.  The original had looked like a granny's Sunday dress), Aziraphale beamed delightedly up at his best friend.  “Isn’t he quite the loveliest thing, Crowley? His name is William! Well, actually it’s ‘William Snakespeare’, but we’re not going to hold that sacrilege against him.”

Crowley wanted to tie the bloody nuisance into a series of knots, and hang him up in a school gymnasium for unenthusiastic children to climb.

The problem was, that he looked almost  _ right,  _ all coiled around Aziraphale and shamelessly enjoying the angel’s sunshiny warmth.  Who ever heard of a white and yellow snake? It was positively indecent!

The wrong sort of indecent.  The sort that's just a bit too matchy and would probably look charming on the cover of 'Snake and Master' magazine.

And yet, there he was, like a brand new scarf, mirroring the shades on Aziraphale’s tartan tie with innocent... 

_ Ha!  _

Well, with accidental perfection.

“And what is  _ he _ doing here?”  Crowley bit his tongue at the last minute, clipping the edge of the sibilant hiss that threatened to escape.  He was six thousand years old, and Aziraphale was  _ his! _  He wasn’t supposed to have to defend his own territory against slinking menaces with no sense of style!

Aziraphale sighed with playful long suffering, and gently smoothed his hand soothingly down the  _ wrong snake’s back _ .  In return, William flicked out his forked tongue, and happily curled the end of his tail around the angel’s wrist.  

Oh now that really was too much!  He was just showing off! Too agitated to lean against the door with a properly insouciant drape, Crowley pushed away from the frame with a sulk, and began to pace directionlessly about the back room.  

“I’m looking after him for a friend, it’s just for the afternoon.  And I rather think he likes me, don’t you?” 

“Of course he likes you.  You’re warm. Basic biology. Doesn’t make you ssspecial.”

Crowley regretted-- no.  Almost regretted. Standards.  His sharp tone the moment it left his mouth.  Not that he was going to apologize!  He wasn't the one allowing some meddling intruder to crawl all over him!

_ He probably doesn’t even know that you still smell like Parthian honeysuckle, or about the lovely, warm spot just under your ear where… _

Right.  The snake had to go.

Gritting his teeth, Crowley balled his hands into fists, and wondered if it was possible to just miracle the slimy git back to his master.  Without Aziraphale noticing. Or asking awkward questions.

Considering the arched eyebrow he was already receiving, Crowley didn’t fancy his chances of getting away with it.   _ Bugger. _

“Crowley, is something the matter?  You’re all… Pink. Flushed. Are you certain you’re feeling alright?”  Aziraphale’s smile was fading at the edges, the way it did when he was concerned, and Crowley wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug him--

_ Oh double bugger,  _ he was supposed to be a demon, wasn’t he?  And here he was, being relegated to second chair, in  _ his own angel’s _ sitting room, by some slinking would-be serpent!  A second rate snake! 

He certainly wasn’t supposed to be perpetually distracted by that little curl that always escaped over Aziraphale’s ear, or wonder how soft it would be if he could just tuck it back into place.  He wasn’t  _ supposed _ to find excuses to come by the shop-- a frumpy, fusty bookshop that belonged a century earlier, and which Crowley didn’t  _ want to _ change, because it was as comfortable and familiar as the man who owned it!

And he bloody well shouldn’t have been so excited to tell said Angel about the new restaurant opening in Aberystwyth, because he knew Aziraphale would get that ridiculously endearing little smile that made Crowley feel like he’d done something  _ right. _

Actually right.  Not the right sort of wrong that was his usual forte.

“Fine.”  He snapped, and thanked his luck that there were no S-sounds to betray him.  

On second thought, maybe he would wait to tell him about the restaurant.  Whoever invented the Welsh language certainly hadn’t taken forked tongues into consideration!

_ Aberystwyth, bah! _

“You don’t look fine, dear.”  Aziraphale deliberated a moment, his indecision playing out on his open book face.  He didn’t particularly want to accuse Crowley of lying; that would only end poorly for them both, and things had been so nice recently!  

But how did you politely tell a demon to stop lying, without, well, implying that he was lying in the first place?

Demons could be so  _ tetchy _ about those sorts of things!

Around and around the room Crowley went, pacing a new groove into the floor, and Aziraphale tried to follow him with his eyes (without making it too obvious that that’s what he was doing).  

“I told you, I'm fine!  What's this bloody interrogation!?”

And for the dozenth time since he’d walked into the room, Crowley spared a dark, suspicious glare for the snake curled…  _ Oh _ .

“You’re jealous.”  Aziraphale wagered quietly, and fidgeted self consciously with the already tidy edges of his bow tie, “Crowley, really now.  There’s nothing to be-”

“Not jealoussss!”

Crowley pinched his mouth and bit his tongue, and tried his best to ignore the subtle hints of amusement from the damn snake.  Oh, he thought this was funny, did he?! Well, they’d seen who was laughing when Crowley showed him who was the original serpent, and who was just the Primark knockoff!  

His owner had probably found him at a pet store.

With a gentling expression-- oh,  _ pity! _  No, he didn’t want to be pitied!  He was a demon, for Hell’s sake, not some pathetic, whimpering--!

Then Aziraphale was putting the spare snake into his basket, and tightly cinching the lid closed.

And his warm,  _ oh so warm, so nice, so warm _ , hand was smoothing soothingly down Crowley’s back in a way that made him feel embarrassingly boneless.

“Silly demon.  You know you’re quite the only snake for me, don’t you?  Now, William will be perfectly fine in his little basket until his daddy comes to fetch him.  And in the meanwhile, why don’t I make you a cup of cocoa?”

Crowley’s brow creased over the top of his glasses, torn between his pride, and the desire to twist himself up into a little ball in Aziraphale’s lap, so the angel could fuss over him with the same attention he’d shown the  _ other _ snake.

He wasn't  _jealous_.  He was simply... not.  Anthony J. Crowley was not jealous.

“With little marshmallows?”  He bargained, and Aziraphale smiled in that indulgent way that made Crowley wish he could be offended (and wasn’t.  Hell, he just wanted him to keep smiling, and it really was pitiful!).

“If you like.  Now, why don’t you make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Crowley waited until Aziraphale had puttered off to the kitchen, before fixing a hard look at the shifting basket.  “If you ever make a move on  _ my  _ Angel again, I’ll blow you up, and have a clown twissst you into a balloon animal.”

He’d tell Aziraphale about the restaurant in Aberystwyth later.  

One couldn’t be too careful with snakes around.

Crowley smirked to himself, and draped across his usual end of the couch.  No, a snake couldn’t be trusted.

And that was just the way it aught to be.

**Author's Note:**

> 🐍


End file.
